Spoiler alert for The Infinite and the Divine (big spoiler, I mean it) but if you want an extra layer of tragedy to Trazyn and Orikan's messed up excuse for a relationship, consider how much of their time together on Serenade was...
...poisoned by the Deceiver screwing. It's not like Orikan didn't hate Trazyn before, but during so much of their forced cooperation, Deceiver is whispering in Orikan's head, stoking that fire. Telling him that Trazyn isn't worth his time, Trazyn can't be trusted, Trazyn's just there to be used and discarded. He isn't someone Orikan should care about. Meanwhile, Trazyn is actually starting to like spending time with Orikan. He's opening up. Yes, most of that opening up consists of explaining random shit Orikan doesn't care about, but come on, how many of us express affection by doing exactly that? We all relate to infodumping about our hyperfixations.
There is a moment where Orikan starts to come around: when Trazyn shares that he too remembers resisting biotransference. He believed Orikan and didn't go willingly to the furnaces. This is the thing Orikan remembers when he saves Trazyn from Flayer!Quellkah (a thing he did not have to do and is more surprised than anyone that he did). Finally the wall starts coming down. And wouldn't you know it, the second Orikan starts to feel something besides hatred, a new memory CONVENIENTLY pops up, showing that Trazyn actually tossed him into the furnace personally (a thing that does not make any practical sense when you think about it). And Orikan goes right back to hating him. WOW FUNNY HOW THAT HAPPENED! Almost like the Deceiver felt a little threatened by the idea of them cooperating...
It's so sad how differently they experienced that time and how much they could have accomplished if each of them had been allowed to understand the other. Trazyn did not want to fight Orikan at the end. He tries to get him to stop their battle, but Orikan has the Deceiver in his ear telling him that he has to attack. And he listens because the Deceiver is offering him exactly what he wants. An easy answer. Trazyn=bad, "Vishani"=good, no need to reevaluate his rivalry or worldviews. And Orikan gets a mountain to the face for his trouble.
Yes, they'll probably always despise each other on some level, but this makes me wonder if there's a version of events where they despise each other slightly less. What that universe might look like. There's probably fewer Deceiver shards running around.
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Every time Jet called himself a monster, I was reminded of a little clip of dialogue from a while ago, in a much different place and context:
[ID: A screenshot of the production script for Juno Steel and the Monster's Reflection, which reads:
SARAH: And now you're finally ready to get rid of me. So he's an exorcist, too.
JUNO: No. I'm not getting rid of you. I've tried that already and it doesn't work. You are always going to be a part of me. I am always going to do bad things and feel you in them. But you weren't a monster, Mom. You were just a person. A person who let her own hurt pour out and hurt other people, yeah. But...
SARAH: ...But what?
JUNO: No, not "but." And. You hurt people and you cared about them. And you scared people and you made things nobody else could make. And you were brave, Ma, brave enough to push yourself as hard as you could, and you weren't smart enough or patient enough or something enough to see that you never should've pushed yourself that far in the first place. And I don't have to be scared every time I feel you in my anymore.
SARAH: Little monster's all grown up, isn't he?
END ID]
...and I wonder if any of these words, or the ideas behind them, might be something that Juno will share with Jet. Jet's not a monster, not even the parts of him he sees as the worst of him, and maybe he'll find a way to reconcile with that when all of this is done.
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Litterally nobody asked but I'm really enjoying this SO-
Let's start with the oldest of the three: Marie!
Marie is 19 and very much Sonics daughter in tepriment. She's about as chilled out as a person could get and doesn't seem to be bothered by anything. She's quick-witted and has a strong sense of justice. However, much like shadow, she's also quite guarded. Not in the same way he is, she very rarely frowns, but more in that very few people actually know what's going on with her.
Something she didn't inherit from Sonic was his super speed. You could argue that she's mildly faster than your avridge hedgehog but, for the most part, she's just a really good shot. I do mean scarily good through. Shadow has been training her since she was old enough to hold a gun. Her reflexes are insanely fast and she won't hesitate. Very much a shoot you first, ask questions later kind of person. The freedom fighters learned quickly not to sneak up on her.
Speaking of the freedom fighters, Marie is the only one of her siblings to be actively working with the freedom fighters. Not because the others don't want to, but because she's thus far been the only one to convince shadow she's capable of taking care of herself on a mission. He still doesn't like it, though. She first began trying to work with them at around 16, sneaking out in the middle of the night. She was quickly caught by her parents, of course, and shadow was ready to ground her for life.
Sonic convinced him that if she really wanted to do this, they wouldn't stop her anyway, resulting in shadow hesitantly relenting on the understanding one of sonics siblings, Sonia or Manic, keep an eye on her in the city and not send her on any massively dangerous missions. Preferably at all but at least until she could handle herself.
Marie is also the only one of her siblings to go into the city, at all, with the other two having stayed in the safety of green hills their entire life. As she moves into adult life and comes of age, Marie finds herself spending more and more time in the city. She knows it's dangerous, especially for her, and that her dad's faught so hard to keep her out of it for a reson, but she wants to find her own place and purpose in life.
Why she hasn't moved to the city entirely is a matter of time. Specifically, waiting for Colbolt and Manic to be old enough to manage without her. With Sonic gone and Shadow frequently being called for G.U.N missions (she knows he can't refuse them, but she's still a little sore about it), she's taken a very active role in their lives.
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‘I never get letters,’ said Marcurio, ‘not any more; I used to get them, at university, when I racked up debts and things and had to send home for more money, and, – oh, damn it all, it is from them, isn’t it.’
He inspected the handwriting at arm’s length; eyebrows sharper than any dagger he might have put through it; and giving in at last, threw the envelope in the fire, and devoured the letter as one might, masochistic, a dinner with an old enemy. It was from his parents, – after all.
‘It is so City,’ said he after hardly a paragraph, ‘that I only half understand it. – Oh!’
‘Oh?’
‘News travels fast,’ said he: ‘the Thalmor must have some secret means of communication; or they are a hive-mind, –’
‘Hive-mind,’ said I: ‘even their faces are hardly different, when they scowl.’
‘Anyway,’ said he, crumpling the offending sentence a little, with a nervousness I’d rarely seen in him: ‘apparently news of the Embassy affair has reached Cyrodiil.’
He went into the main course, quite as if knowing it poisoned; and I meanwhile, – for he’d spared me, in not allowing me to read over his shoulder, – must be vaulted unpleasantly back into the Embassy, and the chaos we’d made of it. We’d been introduced as City gentry, and Marcurio under his right name; and we’d done so much as to merit more than being disinherited, – the Thalmor agents we’d injured, and killed! the prisoners broken out! the documents stolen! and in the name of the Blades!
Marcurio had already called his parents: bloody Thalmor bootlickers: and in my recent experience, the Thalmor had so much boot to lick, right up past their knees, that they’d never get to the end of it. A man purporting to represent the family, had so ignored the boots, and the licking, and gone straight for punching the smug faces, – that, oh! it was shame upon his parents, it was horror! Were they to pursue the matter, to hunt us down, to get us our just desserts to this most hideous of main courses, –
‘Oh!’ said Marcurio upon swallowing the remainder: and not as displeased as I had expected: ‘well, that’s charming. Really charming. Here.’
My hands were shaking so much, that I could not take the first sheet of the letter from him; and rather had him read it to me, at least as far as he could suffer.
‘They are more concerned about you,’ he said, ‘than anything else.’
‘About me!’ I cried: and thought I sank through the floor.
‘Because,’ said he, ‘well, um. Listen to this. We are most concerned about the reports, it says, that you were seen at this function in the presence of a nobody, and showing considerable affection to her, – they stand five feet apart in the City, or they may as well be married, – anyway: this young woman did not have the class or the presence of a, – no, that does not matter, none of it is true, – if you must be seen with young women in public, they ought to, – well, this is too long to read out; if you simply wear a nice set of rings and wear your hair high and act like an absolute arse, you’ll probably manage it, – don’t do that, I’ll fall out of love with you, – anyway that’s most of the letter. About you. If you have got two sides’ worth of disapproval from my parents, then you must be doing something right.’
He considered throwing it in the fire; but I must stop him; and in the faintest of voices, not knowing what to think, I asked:
‘And the fighting? and the burglary? and the escape? what is all the second page?’
‘They disliked that, too,’ said he, ‘but all things considered, they’re half glad it detracted from my faux pas. Here: One report says you were attacked by a frost troll. If that is the case, remember to cover up any inconvenient scars.’
‘Inconvenient scars!’ I cried.
‘They said much the same,’ said he, ‘when I crept back to the university after curfew, and fell into a blackthorn climbing back into the dormy. – It does not matter. We knew all this was known about.’
‘I did not want it to get into the public,’ said I hardly above a whisper.
‘No,’ said he at last: ‘but things do; and I might have had worse. We might both of us have had worse.’
Then, unable to keep himself from speaking it, or from grinning; he said:
‘I am disinherited, disinherited at last!’ –
– and with the most carefree reassurance, – tossing the letter aside like some great burden become paper-light, – laughed; and took my ringless hand.
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